


i do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars

by atheoryon



Series: Mandatory Fun [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Boys In Love, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Clint Barton Feels, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Lingerie, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Riding, Smut, Suits, Top Clint Barton, idk what else to tell you they fuck n feel things, lowkey tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 04:09:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19782967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atheoryon/pseuds/atheoryon
Summary: Clint fuckin’ Barton in a tux, bow-tie undone and hanging around his neck, for once without a broken or bruised nose, looking like he had been injected with a shot of adrenaline, a wide grin on his face and looking good enough to eat. Bucky was suddenly very much reminded that while he looked like he spent the entire day scrolling through Netflix, he was wearing lingerie under his sweatpants and that Clint would probably find out about that very quickly, knowing Clint’s post-mission adrenaline rushes.





	i do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars

**Author's Note:**

> for the mfd prompt 'lingerie', have some porn
> 
> title is from richard siken's poem 'saying your names', which i highly recommend you read
> 
> also thanks to the bdbd for copious images of pretty men in lingerie, you ruined any productivity i might have had this week

_Self-expression_ , right? That’s what it was. His own choices, not something HYDRA or the government or the United fuckin’ Nations could force on him. 

(Not that he particularly blamed the UN, they did have their reasons, but still.)

His own choices, Bucky had those now. That’s why he was stood in front of his bed, a bland and discrete package on top of the space-themed sheets, almost taunting him simply by being so non-descriptive.

_It’s just bits of cloth,_ Bucky told himself, _You’re the most notorious assassin of the twentieth century, you can deal with some scraps of lace._ As motivating as his inner pep talk was, it still took Bucky a few minutes of going through a breathing exercise his therapist had taught him before he could bring himself to open the fucking package.

He’d impulsively bought it at 3 am, after Tony sent a link to a store in their, according to Steve, Official Avengers Business group-chat, but Bucky was still a part of despite the fact that he didn’t go on missions anymore. Tony had sent it formally as a recommendation for Natasha, although Bucky highly doubted she needed any help in that department. Probably just Tony trying to rile up Steve.

Not that it mattered a whole lot, because either way, there he was, nervous over putting on a bit of lace. No-one even had to know, as JARVIS had assured him that all contact between him and Bucky was strictly confidential, life-threatening situations notwithstanding. Clint was also gone, some James Bond-like mission that, as far as Bucky could tell, mainly involved Clint acting as a honeypot in a tux while Prodigy directed him to get to the corrupt, white supremacist, billionaire politician of the week. 

Bucky did feel slightly bad for only having the guts to even consider this when Clint was gone, but for now the thought of anyone being there with him made him want to compulsively check where all the hidden knives in the apartment were. This was _his_ , he got to have his _own_ things, even if he probably ended up sharing it with Clint anyway. 

Steeling himself with one last deep breath, Bucky stripped down and forced himself to not overthink this until he was stood in front of a mirror. Actually getting the stockings and panties on turned out to be a genuine challenge, the delicate material feeling even more so in his metal hand. 

Once he did manage it, Bucky felt surprised at how nice it felt. He felt soft, almost vulnerable, for once in a way that didn’t make the hairs on the back of his neck rise. This was actually his, HYDRA had nothing to do with this. His body, no, _he_ could be something other than a weapon, be pretty or sexy, no place to hide a weapon. 

Or, the weapon could be there, of course, he’d seen it often enough, a knife strapped to an inner thigh, but for once he didn’t want to. He didn’t want weapons anywhere near this, this was free of blood and violence, this was just love, lust, aesthetic, sex. No ulterior motive or means to an end, this was beauty for beauty’s sake, to enjoy and share.

Any apprehension Bucky had felt before about maybe showing this to Clint went flying out the window when he looked at himself in the full-length mirror against the wall of their bedroom. Yes, he felt slightly ridiculous due to the stark contrast he saw in the mirror, the stockings and lace panties so different from the metal arm and scars littering his body, but he also felt _good_ , he liked the way the stockings felt and how tight the panties were around his crotch. 

Bucky startled when a knock suddenly sounded through the apartment. He yelled something that hopefully conveyed that he’d be there soon, before throwing one of Clint’s oversized, purple hoodies and grey sweats, before making his way to the door. 

He opened it, fully expecting one of Clint’s tenants, maybe one of the Avengers or associated superheroes that seemed to pop up all over the place. What he definitely didn’t expect however, was Clint fuckin’ Barton himself, apparently back a few days earlier than he said he would be. 

Clint fuckin’ Barton in a tux, bow-tie undone and hanging around his neck, for once without a broken or bruised nose, looking like he had been injected with a shot of adrenaline, a wide grin on his face and looking good enough to eat. Bucky was suddenly very much reminded that while he looked like he spent the entire day scrolling through Netflix, he was wearing lingerie under his sweatpants and that Clint would probably find out about that _very_ quickly, knowing Clint’s post-mission adrenaline rushes.

“You’re back early.” Bucky said, a few seconds too late, still staring at Clint. Clint nodded, a little jerkily and a lot frantically, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something, before he seemed to think better of it, taking a step forward and burying his hands in Bucky’s hair, dragging their lips together, hot and wet and not at all nice, hurried and biting and everything Bucky wanted. 

Bucky couldn’t do much except moan, a barely-there sound in the back of his throat, holding on to Clint’s shoulders for dear life while Clint fucked his tongue into his mouth, unrelenting and hot and Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Bucky had missed this. Those two weeks Clint had been gone were suddenly way too long, Bucky needed this _now_.

Clint apparently had the same idea in mind, grabbing two handfuls of Bucky’s ass and hoisting him up, walking them over to the couch, though not before pushing him against the wall, trusting Bucky’s grip on his shoulders and his legs wrapped around Clint’s waist to hold him up, grinding into him, slow and torturous in comparison to all the dirty things his tongue was doing. 

Bucky loved sitting in Clint’s lap, his strong body all around him. Luckily, Clint loved it, too, getting to dote on Bucky, tell him how pretty he was and how good he was being, making Bucky blush all over. 

Tonight, though, Clint seemed intent on getting his hands on Bucky’s naked skin as quick as possible, working one hand under his hoodie to thumb at his nipple and the other under the back of his sweats, freezing when instead of Bucky’s ass or boxer briefs, he felt soft lace. 

Clint felt Bucky freeze as well, realising what Clint had just felt, and spurred him into action again. He copped a proper feel, groaning into Bucky’s neck as the realisation of Bucky in lace panties properly hit him.

“Get up, baby, let me see you.” At Bucky’s shaky exhalation, he pulled back slightly. “Unless… you don’t want me to? I know I got back earlier than expected, if you don’t want me to I’ll just shower and you can get changed, whatever you wa-” 

Bucky laughed at his rambling, happy that Clint had taken this so well. “I want ta, trust me, even if I didn’t expect you back today, just give me a second.” 

“Oh, good, because I definitely would’ve jerked off to the thought of you in lace in the shower.” 

Once Bucky’s sure his legs wouldn’t give out under him when he tried to get up, he climbed off Clint’s lap. Hands only shaking a bit, he risked one last glance at Clint, who looked every bit as ruined as Bucky felt, eyes glassy and hyper-focused on Bucky’s crotch, the front of his slacks visibly tight under his straining dick. Bucky nodded once, more to himself than anything, before dropping the sweats, immediately feeling the need to drag the hoodie down more to cover himself up, not that the stockings he was wearing would be hidden at all by that.

“Clint?”

The silence from Clint’s side stretched, until he suddenly snapped back into attention, grabbing Bucky by his hips and dragging him back onto his lap grinding their dicks together through his slacks and Bucky’s panties, groaning and mumbling nonsense into his neck, mostly about how pretty he looked, what a picture he made, how he’s Clint’s and Bucky honest-to-God preened at that, the feeling of being half-naked in lace panties and Clint’s hoodie while Clint was fully dressed up in a tux, the friction of the lace against his more-than-half-hard dick and Clint’s praise sweet in his ear, so good Bucky felt he might die if he didn’t do something about the heat curling in his gut soon.

That feeling was amplified by approximately 427 when Clint bit into his collarbone, working his way up to his neck, sucking and biting as he went in a way that would be absolutely impossible to cover up tomorrow, but for now Bucky just whined, giving Clint all the space he needed, relishing in the pain that sent tiny bolts of lightning straight to his dick. 

Unable to think with Clint working on his neck and grinding his dick against his own, Bucky pushed him away ever so slightly so he could work Clint’s fly open. Clint groaned when Bucky got his dick out. Clint - regretfully - let go of Bucky’s ass, searching behind the pillows for the lube he was sure they left there last time. 

Bucky’s protesting whine died as soon as he figured out what Clint was doing, shifting impatiently against his hard cock, the head flushed angry red, the first bead of precome already pearling at the tip. 

Before he got out the lube proper, Clint couldn’t help but run his hands over Bucky’s thighs and ass again, the panties and stockings doing things to him he didn’t know they would, but was _more_ than happy to explore.

It wasn’t until he slowly slid a finger between Bucky’s cheeks that he suddenly realised there was an opening at the back, that he could easily fuck him with the panties still on. 

Bucky bit back a moan at the first feeling of Clint running his finger over his rim, needing _more_ , this wasn’t a soft and slow thing, he needed Clint’s dick inside of him twenty minutes ago. He grabbed the lube out of Clint’s other hand, grabbed Clint by the forearm and drizzled the lube on his hand himself, because he wasn’t in the mood for teasing now. 

Clint got with the program soon enough, rubbing the lube between his fingers to warm it up a bit before he slowly, way too slowly for Bucky’s taste, slid his finger in. He held it there for a moment, just enjoying the tight heat and the way Bucky was minutely shifting his hips, aching for more. 

After that, it became a blur, opening Bucky up and just fingering him, slow, sweet and easy, Bucky begging for Clint to do more, but Clint was content to just watch him squirm in his lap, rocking against Clint’s fingers and his dick straining against the black lace, making an obscene bulge, even more so with Clint still in his slacks. 

Clint’s dick was also aching for some friction, more than just the occasional brush of lace over Bucky’s dick, so he finally, _finally_ stopped the slow drag of his fingers against Bucky’s prostate and let him jack his dick a few too times to get it slick, before pressing against Bucky’s lower back to move him up, hovering above his dick, thighs flexing in the stockings. Steadying himself, he slowly let Bucky sink down, keeping his gaze locked with Bucky’s so he wouldn’t go any faster than Clint wanted him to. 

When Bucky was fully seated, Clint took a moment to just admire him, flushed and worked up, his chest rising and falling rapidly with how long Clint had been teasing him. Then Bucky shifted ever so slightly and Clint decided to stop teasing, leaning back and nodding at Bucky.

“Go for it, baby, fuck yourself for me.” 

The words had barely left his mouth before Bucky raised himself up, fucking himself on Clint’s cock. Being together again after two weeks felt so good, and now Clint was underneath him in a tux and looking at him like he had hung the fucking stars, he was dragging his hands over his thighs, whispering sweet nothings, how pretty Bucky looked and how glad he was to be home, how tight he felt and how good the panties and stockings looked, how happy seeing Bucky in his hoodie made him. 

Eventually Clint couldn’t take it anymore, grabbing onto Bucky’s hips and thrusting his own up with every downstroke Bucky made, fucking into him hard as Bucky slumped against his chest, holding on as Clint took over. 

It had been so long and it was so _good_ , Clint thick and hard inside of him, hitting his sweet spot with every thrust and normally there’d be a Hawkeye joke somewhere, but for now his brain had short-circuited, unable to form coherent thought beyond Clint and hot and good. He wasn’t going to last any longer, especially when Clint wormed a hand between their bodies, covering his dick and slowly jerking him off through the lace, so sweet in comparison to the way he was jackhammering his dick into Bucky’s ass. 

The onslaught of sensation became too much when Clint started whispering into his ear about how much he had missed him when on mission, how often he’d thought about him and fantasised about what they could be doing together. He cried out, his vision going white for a moment as his orgasm overtook him. 

Clint fucked him through it, slow movements until he finally stopped completely, seated deep in Bucky’s ass while he caught his breath. Bucky nuzzled into Clint’s shoulder, coming down from his thigh before he nodded. Clint felt it more than he saw it, but got the message loud and clear. 

He slid out, petting Bucky’s hair, telling him how good he had been. He rucked up Bucky’s, or rather, his hoodie, and before he even had time to move his own hand, Bucky’s metal one was around his dick, tight and the metal was such a contrast that it didn’t take look before Clint came as well, further ruining Bucky’s panties with thick ropes of come, the white so stark against the black lace that Clint wouldn’t have been surprised if he had come again just from that image.

He cuddled Bucky closer to him, probably also ruining his tux and hoodie, but frankly not giving a damn about that, for now he just wanted to have Bucky close to him, his sweet boy who had done so well. 

The happy smile on Bucky’s face when he eventually pulled back a bit, kissing his cheek obnoxiously before dragging him to the shower made it once again very clear that Clint was such a goner for him.

_Wouldn’t have it any other way_ , he thought to himself as he watched Bucky try to skip, but mostly limp to the bathroom, a happy grin on his face that wouldn't leave anytime soon.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](atheoryon.tumblr.com)
> 
> kudos n comments don't fix the state of our global economy and environmental issues but they do make me happy, so that counts for something


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